


On the Bench

by TuppingLiberty



Series: With Love in Mind [12]
Category: Original Work, With Love in Mind
Genre: Anonymous Sex, BDSM, Bondage, Consensual Anonymous Sex, Daddy Kink, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, February Ficlet Challenge 2020, M/M, Safe Sane and Consensual, Safer Sex, blindfold, spanking bench
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:48:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22870519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TuppingLiberty/pseuds/TuppingLiberty
Summary: Alan helps Graeme live out a fantasy: being tied to a spanking bench and fucked by strangers, blindfolded.FFC Day 17: Using a sense other than sight
Relationships: Graeme Webster/Alan Garry, Graeme Webster/Others, OMC/OMC
Series: With Love in Mind [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1022376
Comments: 10
Kudos: 62
Collections: February Ficlet Challenge 2020





	On the Bench

**Author's Note:**

> The boys are back in town!

“Color?” 

Graeme shivers at the deep timbre of Alan’s voice, looking up at his Daddy from his kneeling position. 

“Green, Daddy,” Graeme whispers. They’ve barely begun to play but his cock is already hard, goosebumps rising on his skin in anticipation. 

They go through their safeword routine for both verbal and non-verbal signals. They don’t have an audience, not yet, though Graeme knows that they’ll be getting one soon. That’s the scene, after all.

Alan kneels before him, cupping his neck and forcing him up on his knees for a kiss. It’s deep and warm, and Graeme shudders against Alan. He’d probably be happy with just Alan, but again, that’s not the scene they’d agreed on. 

It’s planned, of course, when Alan slips the silk eye mask over his eyes, but Graeme’s surprised nonetheless. It’s always fascinating, taking sight out of the equation. Suddenly he can feel every whispered ghosting of Alan’s fingers over his body as they pinch and pull and tease. 

Alan pulls him up to his shaky feet and guides him across the room. When they come to a stop, Alan takes Graeme’s hands and smooths them over the supple leather of the spanking bench. _Fucking bench, more like,_ Graeme muses. He’s easily manipulated onto it, the feeling of the leather against his skin like a caress everywhere. 

His wrists and ankles are strapped in, his legs spread obscenely wide enough that Graeme knows the plug currently holding his hole open will be visible to everyone. His shivers are as uncontrollable as his slide into subspace is. 

He senses a presence by his head, and then Alan’s fingers are sliding into his hair and pulling his head that way to kiss him again. His hard cock is pressing against the bench, and Graeme wants to fuck and move and beg, but Alan’s strong grip on his hair keeps him submissive. 

“He’s ready,” Graeme hears Alan say away from him. 

There’s the rustling of a curtain and heavy footsteps, followed by a cool hand over the warm skin of his ass. “Fuck, he looks good this way.” 

In subspace, Graeme can’t tell if he can recognize the voice or not, but he can recognize the sound of the condom wrapper being ripped open. Even as Alan keeps a firm grip on his hair, Graeme feels the man behind him, whoever he is, begin to play with the plug. It’s one of Graeme’s larger ones, wide and long and holding him at the ready since Alan put it in hours ago at home. Even though the Tesla drives smoothly, the car ride to the yoga studio had been torturous. 

One hand squeezes his ass cheek, its owner groaning at feeling. Graeme tightens his hands on the bench, squeezing into the leather, as the stranger starts to fuck him with the plug. 

He can’t help how he feels, like a live wire of nerve endings. _“Please-”_ The first begging falls from his lips unbidden; honestly, he had thought he would last longer. 

There’s a low chuckle from behind him, and then the plug is withdrawn completely, the thickest part stretching Graeme’s rim and making it burn. 

Taking the cock is almost easier than the plug, at least until the stranger just _keeps going,_ obviously longer than both the plug and Alan. Graeme pants against the leather as Alan’s fingers tighten in his hair, and he forces himself to relax even when it feels like he can feel the stranger all the way up in his throat. 

Strong hands grip his hips and give him a second to adjust, but only just that; after all, if Graeme had a complaint, he’d safeword. It’s barely any time before the stranger is withdrawing and sinking back inside, fucking him in a steady, fluid motion that lets Graeme feel him every stop of the way. 

“Oh god, oh Daddy-” Graeme gasps, and then he can sense Alan right there again, waiting for a signal. “Daddy, am I being good?” 

He hears Alan growl right before he steals a kiss. “You’re being the fucking best, Baby Boy. Listen to how happy you’re making him. How happy he is in your hole.” 

Sure enough, the man behind him is grunting and picking up the tempo. His cock presses over Graeme’s prostate again and again, making Graeme tremble and shake. He won’t come - the cock ring takes care of that little problem, but Graeme doesn’t need to come right now, not when he’s being used so thoroughly for someone else’s pleasure. Not when him doing so is making his Daddy so happy. And he can tell exactly how happy Daddy is by how he’s pulling at Graeme’s hair and kissing him. 

The stranger sets a brutal pace, gripping Graeme’s hips hard enough to bruise and using him like a cock sleeve, just a toy for his pleasure. Even behind the mask, Graeme’s eyes squeeze tightly shut, biting at the leather of the bench to keep from keening. Waves of pleasure wrack him, never enough to come, but enough to feel like he’s being such a good boy. 

“Spank him a little,” Alan orders, making Graeme whimper. To have Alan use other men to fuck him, to bring him that honeyed pleasure-pain that his masochism enjoys, it makes him shudder. 

He can’t imagine ever feeling more used, more wanted, than right now. 

The slap against his ass comes at random intervals, ratcheting up his tension as he waits. Every part of him is over-sensitive, the pain making him float above his own body, imagining the stranger fucking the ass of some random boy he’d come across all splayed out and welcoming. 

With a shout, the stranger comes, groaning when Graeme clamps down around him. “Fuck, that’s a good lay,” he says with a puff of happy air. He gives Graeme a slap on the flank when he pulls out, leaving Graeme gaping and wanting. 

“He’s ready,” Alan calls again, and the curtain rustles once more. 

“Look at that fucking hole,” this one says, sliding two fingers into him easily to test the lube there. “Fuck.” 

As the second stranger slides into him, Graeme whites out into a subspace so deep he needs nothing - not sight, not hearing, not smell - nothing but feeling the cock pressing into him forever and ever and ever. Every touch swamps his brain with this electric euphoria. 

When he comes back, he’s wrapped in the softest blanket he’s ever felt, his body pleasantly sore. He’s vaguely aware that he came at some point because he feels soft and sated. Opening his eyes, he sees he’s nestled himself in the nook of Alan’s neck, and Alan’s softly stroking his hair. 

“Water?” he croaks, his throat sore and hoarse. He must have screamed a lot, but it’s all a blur now. A heavenly blur that he’ll cherish for the rest of his life, and also maybe not need to repeat again, he thinks with amusement. 

Alan brings the water bottle to his lips, and feeds him orange wedges, and murmurs how much he loves him, and honestly, Graeme would be happy if he never moved from this spot again. 

“Love you,” he manages to say, his face still pressed to Alan’s skin. 

“Love you, too, Baby Boy.” 

He feels the soft kiss Alan drops on his forehead almost as keenly as he felt all the cocks in him before, and that’s his miracle.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated. :)


End file.
